


i have to go

by orphan_account



Category: Minecraft (Video Game), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Angst, Bittersweet Ending, Gen, Out of Character, Usage of real names
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:34:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,254
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27955469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: "i don't think I can do this anymore."///Haven't seen a lot of angst about Badboyhalo so I decided to give it a try.
Relationships: No Romantic Relationship(s)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 46





	i have to go

Bad used to smoke. Not hash or weed, whatever the kids called it these days. Not the gentle plant that he still takes a hit of when his job gets a little too stressful. 

He smoked and still does from time to time - cigarettes. Tobacco to be specific. And if he could get his hands on it, he would smoke cigars as well. 

(He had a good supplier, a family friend who had a liking to kids. When he got older he took to getting a fake IDs to get his own type of cigarettes.) 

This was also the time when he got introduced to alcohol. When he started to drink, mind you much more than what he drinks now. 

(He giggles as he catches sight of his reflection, which mocks him from above. He had taken a fall. Legs tripping over each other and ending up in the bathtub. Bruise forming at the back of his head. In the morning he'll find himself on his couch, though he won't remember if he stumbled there in the night or some kind soul took pity on him and dragged him there. It's most likely the latter.)

///

It's starting to get harder for him to keep smiling, especially since he can't remember the last time he went a whole day without stressing over one thing or another. Or having his eyes burn from something other than his computers screen. Or how there was a good chance that he was going to burst out crying any second of the day. 

He wants to scream sometimes and cry and everything in between because he simply just can't take it anymore. He doesn't know if it's the stress finally catching up to him or knowing that people idolize him when he's a shit human being. 

He wants to drink and smoke - overdose on some white pasty pills in some shitty club or back alley. Be found by some teenager taking a stroll later in the day, and have his body posted on the internet for the laughs of some twisted fuck. 

(Maybe he doesn’t - he doesn’t know. He just wants to end this constant neverending tiredness and stress that is slowly draining his will to live as he is living in the present moment) 

///

In a spree of decisions he starts to apply for jobs. 

They ask what he has been doing before - he says  
"Influencer". 

They laugh, and he softly smiles, looks to the floor. 

They stop laughing. Uncomfortable silence stretching before being broken by the rustling of papers. 

He is handed a piece of paper, and asked to fill it out. 

He does. 

He continues doing this for a month, or so until he has more than 20 job applications all of them under his name with his current job being "Influencer". 

He’s lucky he has work experience with kids. 

(Though he doesn’t think he wants to work in schools anymore, just in case he has to meet up with a fan. He no longer wants to deal with them, or anyone on the internet.)

He deletes his twitter account first, when asked about it by his friends he simply says he just doesn’t want to have a twitter account due to all the problems that arise from there. 

///

Two months after filling out twenty or so job applications, he gets accepted into one. 

It’s a job to edit someone’s videos - he doesn’t care who it is. There is another one to work with kids over seas - though that one seemed a little more sketchy than before. 

He takes the sketchy one. 

///

He works in the country, but still uploads videos. 

Though these become less and less frequent. 

He deletes all of his social media accounts, all of them - even his alt accounts. 

Then he delete his youtube account. 

Afterwards he drinks one last glass of apple cider before leaving his old house. He kisses the top of Rat’s head and heads towards the airport where he boards a plane to Mexico. 

///

For the first time in a long while, he feels free. Darryl stands on the edge of a tall building with clean windows that give Hima good view of the airport. 

He doesn’t understand anything that is being said to him by the customs officer. He doesn't worry too much about it. He learns best with experience. 

(He will leave the US, get a new name and start a new life. His friends - both in IRL and online will ask for any information regarding his whereabouts or how he is doing)

///

Darryl makes a video, he titles it simple 

“BadBoyHalo is dead (not literally) - sorry it just didn’t work out”

"I am not going to say where I am living, or what I am doing at the moment. I don’t want to be on the internet."

(His hands are on top of a slightly worn and messy wooden desk. He had a bottle of 'Corona' on the desk, only slightly drink from. Overall, he looks healthier and more at peace than he ever did as Badboyhalo. Darryl looks at the camera with an ease that hadn't been there when he was a Youtuber. His gaze is cold and serious, very unlike what his online persona had been.) 

"To the people that I caused great stress, friends and family alike, I’m sorry."

(He takes a drink of the beer on the desk, keeping it in his hands for a second longer - before downing another gulp. He stares down at his hands for a second before thinking about his next words. Afterall, one always has to be careful with saying the right things lest a person were to get the wrong message. Green eyes bore into the camera.) 

"I’m a terribly selfish person, sorry. And am incredibly weak. I thought I could do this Youtube thing, turns out I wasn’t meant for this life. So I quit, I’m sorry I had to go."

(For a second his eyes look wet, almost sad. He looks down towards the desk, then the second passes and they turn cold, thin lips quirking into a fond smile. Darryl lets out a soft chuckle, he takes another gulp of the beer)

"It just wasn’t working out. I was feeling overwhelmed, and being really self destructive - I’m sorry I had to go.  
If it of any condolences, it payed off and I'm feeling a lot better now. Still sorry for the way I abandoned all of you."

(His voice sounds wet, something familiar to the persona he once played. Something wets the wooden desk, and in a flurry of hands he rubs his eyes. A shaky grin on his pale face. When he looks back at the camera his eyes are rimmed red, but dry)

"Don’t stick around, i am not coming back."

(There is a sad tone in his voice as he says this, a guilty smile tugging his lips. His hands twiddle with each other, again finding their way to the bottle on his desk) 

"But thank you, thank you so much, for the opportunity to be a part of your community and sticking through all the goods and the lows."

(As he says this his smile grows bigger and more genuine, though one wouldn't be able to deny the hint of sadness. His green eyes water a bit, and he waves, voice cracking as he departs from the internet personas he played for so long)

"Thank you, and good bye." 

Darryl hits the upload button , and he doesn’t look back.

**Author's Note:**

> It's three am where I live and this story has just been rotting in my fucking google docs. First time actually publishing a MCYT fanfic about Bad, so please let me know if there's room for improvement.


End file.
